


Iron

by Sir_Bedevere



Category: Les Misérables (TV 2018), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sister Simplice is bae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 13:05:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17829125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Bedevere/pseuds/Sir_Bedevere
Summary: Simplice was shaking so much that she thought she might fall to the ground. But it was not fear of what Inspector Javert might do – he was a policeman, after all – but there was only one reason that he would have any interest in nuns from the convent.He was still on the hunt.Simplice will be brave, for the sake of their new gardener and his child.





	Iron

It had been a strange few days.

The child, Cosette, had not been well, although she would live, and the abbey was alive with whispers about the man who was now staying in the garden rooms. And as they all knew that Simplice was known to him, her sisters peppered her with questions. 

“Who is he?”

“Will he stay until the child is well?”

“What is the Reverend Mother thinking?”

Simplice did not like to gossip and besides, she did not yet know the whole story. Monsieur Madeleine had not left his rooms, and when Simplice had dared to sneak to his door, she had found him sound asleep. 

On the third day, when Cosette woke and asked for her papa, the Reverend Mother called Simplice to her study. 

“Sit, my child. We have much to discuss.”

Simplice did as she was told. The Reverend Mother was severe, but she was not unkind, and Simplice had always liked her straightforward leadership. 

“Tell me all that you know of our visitors. Do not omit anything.”

“I have not seen Monsieur Madeleine for several years,” Simplice said. “I do not know his whole story.”

“That is very well. Just tell me what you do know.”

It still upset Simplice to think of the poor woman, Fantine, and how she had died, but she did her best to recall the whole sorry tale. In relating the story, it was necessary to think on Inspector Javert, a name and a face that she had never forgotten, or how he had killed the broken woman who was her patient. 

As she spoke of that horrible day, and of Monsieur Madeleine who had wept at the woman’s side, Simplice began to tremble. The Reverend Mother reached across the desk and took Simplice’s hand between her own. 

“Take a moment if you need it,” she said. “It sounds a very harrowing tale indeed.”

Simplice closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The Reverend Mother’s hands were cool and she focused on them, and tried to school her breathing further. Outside, the bells were ringing and there was the soft sound of footsteps in the halls as her sisters went to their evening meal. It was safe here, she knew, and reminded herself of that. No matter that the memory of Inspector Javert was roaring in her head – he could not touch her here.

After a moment or two, she felt the tightness in her chest loosen, and the Reverend Mother raised a hand to press her cheek.

“I am sorry, my child. I did not know it would cause you such trouble. You need not tell me more. I have a fair enough picture.”

Simplice nodded, but spoke again.

“Whatever I may have told you, Reverend Mother, please know that Monsieur Madeleine is a good man. Whoever he may once have been, I do not believe he is that person any longer.”

The Reverend Mother smiled.

“That is well, for I have already told him that he may stay and work the garden, and we will teach the child.”

“Oh, thank you, Reverend Mother!”

Simplice felt as though she could relax for the first time since their visitors dropped into the garden. How often had she thought of Fantine over the years, and prayed that her child was safe?

“One more thing, my dear,” the Reverend Mother said, taking her arm. “I will not be allowing Monsieur Madeleine to roam the abbey unchecked, no matter how we might trust him, and I will not encourage our sisters to speak freely with him. But you know him, and he you, and I will need some help to ensure that everyone lives comfortably here.”

Simplice nodded, unsure of what she was being asked. 

“You will deal with our Monsieur on the day-to-day, and take his meals to him. And for a while at least, until I know how we will live together, I would like you to supervise him in his work. In time, he will not need it, I am certain, but we must all learn to understand his place here. Ourselves, as well as Monsieur himself.”

And so Simplice began her strange task of watching over the man who had once watched over her town, and she tried to take as much care with it as he had once done. 

On the first day, she took the breakfast that had been prepared for him and went quietly to his door. Apart from visiting the child, he had been allowed some time to rest before he started his work, but today he would begin in the gardens. 

There was no sound from the room when Simplice got to the wooden door, but she knocked anyway. 

“Come in.”

They were the first words he had spoken since he arrived, and she and the Reverend Mother had found him on his knees praying late into the night. 

“Sister Simplice,” he said, rising from the small table as she entered. “I was not expecting you.”

“The Reverend Mother has asked me to help you settle in,” she said, pressing the tray into his hands.

“Ah, I see. You are here to keep an eye on me.”

Simplice blushed, but Monsieur Madeleine smiled gently and bowed his head.

“I would expect nothing less. I know how lucky I am to have been given a place here. I will do whatever the Reverend Mother requires.”

He turned and took the tray back to the table, sitting peaceably. There was grey in his short hair that had not been there before, but he was very much the same man that she remembered. Older, and sadder even than he had been then, but still the same.

“I will return after breakfast,” she said, instead of the many things that she wanted to say. “I can show you the gardens.”

“Thank you,” he said, tearing into a piece of bread. “For everything.”

It was peaceful to walk the gardens with him afterwards, to show him the many jobs that needed tending, and watching him light up at the thought of the hard and honest work. Simplice had never had any interest in men, but she appreciated kindness like any person did, and Monsieur Madeleine had always been kind. Troubled, for sure, but kind, and she thought it so strange that they might be friends now.

They fell into a routine, and she learned things about plants and birds that she had never known. She enjoyed his company and how respectful he was of her sisters, lowering his eyes whenever he had to pass them, waiting patiently to visit Cosette when the rest of the girls had gone to classes. It was his suggestion that he wear a bell around his knee, so that any sister who wished to avoid him could, and it was this selfless idea that finally let the Reverend Mother know he could be trusted to roam unsupervised. Simplice had enjoyed their weeks together, but she had also missed the hours spent with her sisters, and she was pleased to know that he had earned the Reverend Mother’s trust. She was a hard woman to impress. 

**

Simplice did not often leave the abbey, although the Reverend Mother would always give her permission if she asked for it. Coming to Paris from Montreuil-sur-Mer meant that she was more used to the outside world than many at the abbey, and less shocked by the things that she would see out there. So sometimes she would be sent to collect the donations, or go to the church to help with the homeless children being fed, and she never begrudged the freedom that she was given. There were many of her sisters who were trapped not by the Reverend Mother but by their fear of the outside. 

Simplice had never been afraid of any of it. She had been raised in Montreuil, a town that had been poor and suffering for her whole childhood, and she knew the despair and hunger that the poor people of Paris grappled with every day. 

It was two months after Monsieur Madeleine arrived that Simplice was asked to go and help Father Rodriguez at one of the churches in Saint Michel. She was to take one of the new initiates with her, and spend the day feeding children whilst a doctor examined them for illness. The initiate, Sister Marie, was excited and nervous as they waited by the door for the Reverend Mother to let them out. 

Across the yard, Monsieur Madeleine was tending to a rose bush, and he smiled as Simplice caught his eye. The last months had been kind to him, and eased some of the worry that he carried on his face. 

The street outside was quiet in the early morning, and Simplice threaded her arm through Marie’s as they walked away from the convent. 

“I hope you enjoy this work,” Simplice said. “If you do, the Reverend Mother will allow to do it as often as you wish.”

“I am looking forwards to seeing the children,” Marie said. “I am missing my brothers and sisters.” 

It was not far to the church, but as they walked, Simplice began to feel a prickling on the back of her neck, as though there was something wrong. Marie chattered away in her ear and she tried to listen to her voice, but the feeling grew until she was sure that they were being followed, that she could hear the footsteps running behind them. 

She freed her arm, thinking only that she would protect Marie from the assailant, and whirled around. The street was clear behind them. Not even a tradesman on the way to his work. 

“Sister? What is wrong?”

The colour had drained from Marie’s face and her eyes darted along the street. 

“Oh, I thought I heard something. That is all. I was mistaken.”

Marie nodded, although she faltered a step behind as Simplice began to walk once more. Simplice’s heart was beating fast in her chest and she recalled the day in the Reverend Mother’s office, when she had been so afraid of the shadows in her memory. She tried to breathe slowly, and slowed down for Marie to come back to her side. 

“I am sorry that I scared you. I just thought-”

There is was again. The prickling of her skin, the footsteps in her ear, and this time when she turned around, she saw him. There was nowhere for him to hide, not quickly anyway, and so he raised an eyebrow and nodded at her. 

_Inspector Javert._

He looked very much the same as he had in Montreuil, although she was sure it would not have mattered; she’d never forget that man. The mouth that had been twisted in sneering fury, goading a dying woman. The cruel hands that had pointed a gun at a broken and weeping Madeleine, gripped him and forced him from the room. She had already heard his voice through the door of the convent, the same harsh and snarling voice that had haunted her nightmares. 

And here he was, following her on an empty street. 

Simplice was shaking so much that she thought she might fall to the ground. But it was not fear of what Inspector Javert might do – he was a policeman, after all – but there was only one reason that he would have any interest in nuns from the convent. 

He was still on the hunt. 

She had to protect Monsieur Madeleine, where she had failed to protect him before. 

Simplice raised her eyes to meet the inspector’s and crossed her arms to hide her trembling. Marie did not speak a word, but came to her side in a show of support that Simplice was grateful for. 

“Can I help you, inspector?” she called. 

If he was surprised at being addressed, he did not show it. Instead he tilted his head and stalked towards them, his coat billowing around him. 

“Good morning, sisters,” he said, bowing his head. “Where are you headed this morning?”

“To our work.”

Simplice watched his face for a sign that he recognised her, but there was none. Of course he would not. She was just another person he had stepped over in his work, neither a criminal nor a person worthy of his attention. That was good. It would make it easier.

“Tell me, sisters,” he said. “Has there been any – disturbance in your convent these past few months?”

Simplice felt Marie look at her, and shook her head. 

“There has not. We live a peaceful life, and help those in need. We do not have disturbances.”

Javert narrowed his eyes at her tone of voice. He glanced at Marie, who thankfully did not speak, and then smirked. 

“Well, that is good to know. I will let you get to your work. Please do – let me know if things should change.”

He turned on his heel and walked away. Simplice watched him go around the corner at the end of the street before she relaxed, leaning against the arm that Marie offered her. 

“He was a policeman? I have never met such a man. He was talking of our good gardener, was he not?”

Marie, it seemed, was not as unobservant as she appeared to be. 

“He was. And yes, he is a policeman. A very cruel one. If you ever see him on the street, do not speak to him. Pretend you have taken a vow of silence.”

The work at the church was enough to distract Simplice from the morning encounter, but stepping back along the street later, she began to tremble as she thought of Javert standing over her, demanding answers. Javert roaring at a dying woman. Javert dragging Monsieur Madeleine away, and by the time they had got back to the convent, she was almost weeping. 

The Reverend Mother met them at the door, and was not pleased with Simplice’s appearance. 

“My dears, what happened?”

“We met a policeman this morning, Reverend Mother,” Marie said. “Inspector Javert. His behaviour was very strange and frightening. He followed us to question us. Sister Simplice was very brave in dismissing him.”

“I see.”

The Reverend Mother pursed her lips and put an arm around Simplice’s shoulders.

“You did well, my dear. I know how afraid you are of the man. I shall not send you out again, if you do not wish it.”

At that moment, Monsieur Madeleine walked across the path ahead of them, wheeling a barrow. The bell around his knee jingled softly, and he whistled under his breath. Simplice thought of how changed he was from that desperate man in the hospital, of how he had rescued and loved the child, and of how tenderly he cared for the roses in the gardens. She thought of how one wrong word could undo it all. 

She shook her head. 

“I am well, Reverend Mother. Better the inspector question me and no other, if he is ever there again. We both know that I will keep the secret better than anyone else.”

“Of that, my brave child, I have no doubt.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another._. Proverbs 27:17.


End file.
